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Nothing gets past him.

“Champagne?” A young woman in black and white clothing stops in front of me. Her hair is pulled back in a tight, neat bun, and she smiles at me as she holds out her tray. It’s completely filled with champagne flutes. I wonder how she manages to balance this entire thing without dropping any of the tall glasses. If I had her job, I’d be fired immediately for spilling champagne on one of the expensive-looking people loitering around the mansion. I may be a dancer, but that doesn’t mean I’m not clumsy when it comes to carrying things. It just means I’m flexible.

“Thank you,” I say, accepting a flute from the tray. I take a second one and turn to Ian, offering it to him. I raise an eyebrow. “One for you, husband?” I smile brightly at him. It is our wedding day, after all. Oh, it’s an unexpected day, but it’s still a day that we get to spend together. The two of us have taken our vows and now we’re...now we’reforever.

His eyes narrow when I say the wordhusband. I wonder if he likes this word or if he hates it. I wonder if he thinks it’s an outdated sort of name: a word that holds some sort of connotation that the two of us must be in love.

We aren’t.

We both understand that very clearly.

This arrangement we have is purely one made for power. For him, he wants my father’s world, businesses, and connections. Being married to me even after killing my dad gives him the power that he wants. For me, being married to Ian provides a certain level of safety. Even people who would go after me as the daughter of Amato won’ttouchme as Salucci’s wife. There’s just no way.

So it’s almost like I’m being offered a second chance at a bright future. I’m being given an opportunity where my dad can’t hurt me and neither can anyone else.

Except for Ian.

And judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, I have a feeling that might happen sooner, rather than later.

Ian accepts the flute of champagne from me and the server scurries away. I’m pretty sure she knows that he’s irritated with me all of a sudden, although neither one of us really knows why or what’s going on.

“What?” I whisper when she’s gone. “You seem upset.”

“I think I need to remind you of something,” he murmurs quietly. Ian doesn’t have to yell to get his point across. He can be completely terrifying even when he’s just whispering. That’s something I love – and hate – about him, actually. I don’t like the fact that he’ssogood at making me feel this way.

“What is it?” I whisper back. Even though we’re in a crowded room, it feels like we’re the only two people in the entire space. How does he manage to do that?

“I’m in charge of you, Rose.” His nostrils flare, and I realize that yeah, calling him myhusbandin a playful way wasn’t the way to go.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Ian raises an eyebrow. “Or does having my semen leaking out of your tight wet cunt not remind you of your place quite enough?”

Oh fuck. Why the hell do I love it when he talks to me like this? Why do I absolutelycravehaving these words hit my ears? It’s like every time he speaks, something changes deep inside of me. It’s like he’s making my life feel like some sort of strange, messed-up movie. Every time he opens his mouth to speak to me, I feel like I’m going to fuckingdie...but in the very best way.

“It’s enough,” I whisper.

“Then act like it.”

“I only called you my husband,” I say, looking up at him. I blink innocently because I know perfectly well what I’ve done. I’ve teased him, and Ian isn’t the type of man to be teased.

“You forget that we’re not in love,” he points out.

“I know that we’re not in love,” I say firmly.

“Then you need to act like you remember.”

The way he narrows his eyes at me bothers me a little bit, but I find myself nodding curtly. I mean, it’s our wedding day. Perhaps he should be a little more forgiving, but he’s not. He’s never been. That’s Ian.

This is part of the reason he’s so strong. It’s part of the reason he’s so good at what he does. Perhaps most of all, it’s the reason he’s a monster.

People are so fucking afraid of him because he’s not afraid to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. He’ll kill. He’ll lie. He’ll take.

He took me, after all.

There are other things about him, though...other things that make Ian the insane bastard that he is.

He’s hot as hell, for one thing. I’m not missing the way that the women at the party are looking at him. Maybe I should pretend not to notice them scoping out my husband. It’s ourweddingday, and they’re all looking at him like he’s this tasty, delicious treat. They’re looking at him like he’s theirs for the taking, but he’s not. Is he?